Climactic Splashes

“…she stopped paying close attention to his words and when at red lights, examined the rain drops spattering on the windshield so intently that she almost stared right through them. Each drop seemed stuck on the glass, until another drop landed on it and they rolled down the window together, ending in a climactic splash.”

Sara: feminism and more.

There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil’s advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women’s Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that’s so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.

Melissa McEwan, of course, on the terrible bargain. My life as a woman, as a queer person, as a fat person, is not your thought experiment.  (via sanitywatchers)

Exactly. Your “playful” argumentation is in fact a series of personal attacks. You don’t get to attack us and then say we’re too emotional.

(via cocoku)

Yes. It might be an interesting intellectual exercise for you, but this is my life and my reality we’re talking about. 

(via bitterbuffalo)

I know some people who need to read this

(via reelaroundthefountain)

Sometimes I need other people to remember this, and sometimes I need to remind myself.

(via rubyvroom)

I have this problem with my uncle. He thinks he’s engaging in playful debate. He’s not. He’s taking problems that have very real consequences in people’s lives, including mine, and treating them like they’re merely hypothetical, just interesting fodder for debate. And then he wonders why I just give up and walk away. To him, it’s a signal he’s won the argument, that he’s right. Really, it’s just because I don’t have the spoons to put up with his bullshit for hours on end.

(via bubonickitten)

*AHEM* Holder of All The Wrong Opinions

(via lillianbassman)


Also, let’s deny my and my family’s experience of racism, insisting that it’s really just prejudice, which also denies its deep, institutional, and racialized nature.

Because it’s just a friendly debate, right?